It's 8:15 and his stare finds me across the room. He lectures on about the metamorphosis about butterflies,but I can't help but think his mind is elsewhere.
A professor shouldn't watch a student the way his eyes watch me.
No one else seems to notice, and why would they? This class is a joke--a right off to most for their required electives and "The Beauty of Nature 301" is more or else known as an easy 'A' for science majors.
Basic botany, some medicinal herbal studies, and a overview of pollinators and common insects.
But I didn't take the course for an easy 'A,' I took it for him. Professor Voss is secretly gorgeous and no one else knows it. Hiding behind those ill-fitted field clothes, chunky glasses, and dorky sweater vests, is a god.
I look up from my notes. Voss has gone silent. The flipping of textbooks fills the air in the absence of his voice.
Our eyes meet. He sits at his desk, hunched over student essays. For a split second those eyes darken like his angry, but I think I catch a hint of a crooked smile. Then, gone again, in an instant.
The timer dings. Class has ended.
The scuffling of chairs and notebooks, laptops closing, and feet heading to the door create a symphony ending our hour together once more. For weeks, I've hated this moment.
I joined this class for him. His beauty, his genius. And yet, I'd barely exchanged more than 100 words with him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Months prior...
Winter term was quickly coming to an end, with our break fast approaching, but tonight was special. Amidst the chaos of studying for upcoming exams, the world pauses for a single night to celebrate my 21st with friends.
Entering the pub, I saw him. Sat around a circle of notable professors from my major's department--many of which I'd had--was a commanding figure. Commanding, yet unfamiliar. Jane, my roommate and also a science major but my senior by a year, didn't recognize him and she'd taken nearly every professor in our department.
So I thought, foolishly--must not be a teacher. Perhaps a friend of theirs.
Hours passed and slowly his companions left. By which point, he and I had passed glances a good number of times. Once the last of Jane's and I's friends had gone and she'd disappeared off to the bathroom, the man approached.
"Hi," he said, taking an open seat beside me.
"Hi to you," I said, trying not to panic.
His dark hair, tan skin, deep navy eyes, and sharp jaw line made him appear dangerous in the good kind of way. But I was risk averse. Still, it's hard not to be drawn in by someone who looks like him.
His long-sleeve shirt hugged his muscles and wide shoulders like a glove and his dark wash jeans may have concealed what potentially hid there, but could not hide the length of his legs. Tall, hauntingly handsome--had I met him alone somewhere like a night walk in the city or on a run in the park in the evening, I might have been scared in a different way. Here tough--with the glow of the dimly lit bar, and the bass drum matching the thundering of my heart--he was alluring. Alluring in the worst way--in a way I could never have.
"This is a local hot spot, most everyone here is a regular, but you're new," He said and signaled the bartender. Without word, the bartender brought over a Meyers Tully beer.
Clearly he's a regular, the bartender knows his order, I thought and tried to give a witty response in turn, "Maybe I just go to better places."
One side of his mouth quirked and he looked away briefly to take a sip before those midnight eyes turned back on me. Heat flamed my skin.
"Well they must not be that great if--"
"Hey, I'm--" Jane joined my side, back from the bathroom and both the man and her fell quite. While she took a moment to take him in more closely--confused but pensive, like she was working something out--he was the opposite. Whatever connection they had, the dots formed near instantly when he took her in and something along the lines of shock and disappointment grew across his face before he briefly looked to me and then again to her.
